Reverie
by breakthehorizons
Summary: Try as she might, Bridget can't keep fighting against herself. One-shot, my first ever. Exploration/extension of that lovely kitchen scene. M for mild language and adult content throughout. I do not own these characters, just draw inspiration from them to get my pens moving again. CC welcome and encouraged!
There was an uneasiness in Bridget's stride that she couldn't shake. She tried to settle her nerves as she navigated through the corridors, making her way to the kitchen. She hoped to catch Franky at the end of lunch service so she could clear the air, no matter how outrageous her revelation might sound.

All Bridget could think about was the heartbreaking look on Franky's face when she had to turn her away from her office. The fiery younger woman had been left under the impression that the therapist had cut ties because of her confession about Meg Jackson's murder. But that wasn't the case. Bridget hadn't even considered that to be an implication that Franky could've drawn after being transferred to another psychologist. The inmate's trust in her had gone from apprehensive to shattered and Bridget hated herself for it. She was determined to fix the hurt she'd caused the raven-haired woman; the one that had invaded her thoughts constantly over the last couple of months.

Despite the hardened profile that had been painted of Franky Doyle, Bridget had seen almost immediately that the inmate was in a very delicate place. She was no longer at the top of the hierarchy and went through each day with a target on her back. The wear and tear of prison life was taking its toll, and the personal anguish that she'd been forced to confront during her sessions with Bridget had pushed her even further to her breaking point.

Then she had been left to feel abandoned - punished, even - after baring parts of her that no one else had ever seen. Bridget couldn't let it go on any longer; they had come too far and fought too hard. Walking away wasn't an option.

The lunch crew was leaving as she made her way through the empty dining hall toward the doors in the back. She looked through one of the windows and saw Franky shuffling about, no one else in sight. Bridget took a deep breath in and placed her hand against the door, pausing for a moment before pushing it open. She came to rest silently on the other side, her arms folded across her chest. She was shaking so hard she feared she'd collapse. _Jesus, get a hold of yourself, Westfall..._

It didn't take long for Franky to spot her, freezing in place as their gazes locked. After a moment she shrugged, tossing her hands out dismissively.

"Lunchtime's over," she snapped. "I'd over to make you something but I can't promise I won't gob in it." Her expression was nothing short of agitated. Bridget tried to steady herself.

"Franky - "

"I've got nothing to say to you." The inmate cast Bridget a look of annoyance while moving through the kitchen, trying to keep herself busy. She hoped that she was able to disguise the hurt in her voice with the anger it was partnered with.

"You were right, when you said I was lying." The deafet in the psychologist's voice was apparent but Franky refused to look interested. Bridget started to step closer to the large steel table that separated them. "I didn't stop the sessions because of the rumours." _Come on, Franky..._ She sighed when she saw the brunette wouldn't take the bait. "You ever heard of the term 'transference'?" Franky's mouth twitched into a frown as she shook her head, still refusing to look up at the blonde. Bridget took a subtle grip on the sleeves of her jacket, trying to calm the shaking in her hands. "In a patient-therapist relationship... romantic feelings can develop." Franky finally stopped what she was doing, her face wincing in frustration. She rested her palms on the table and leaned forward, looking into Bridget's eyes intently. The older woman tried to swallow the dry lump in her throat. "When that happens, it clouds objectivity and that relationship breaks down."

"You've got tickets on yourself if you think I've got the hots for ya," Franky spit almost immediately. She nearly stumbled over her own lie; Bridget was the only thing she could think about day and night, and despite where they'd found themselves in that moment, she couldn't help but still long for the blonde's affections. It was just easier for her to keep up her barricades, no matter how bad she wanted them down.

Her brow twitched when she saw Bridget shift on her feet nervously. Their eyes remained fixed on one another. The blonde couldn't stop the fluttering in her chest as she prepared to drop the truth that she'd come to say.

"I was talking about me, Franky." The words were barely above a whisper, but they were like thunder in Franky's ears. She stood there for a moment, not sure how to react, replaying what she'd just heard repeatedly in her head. Eventually she was able to shake herself back into some sense of coherency, struggling to articulate her words.

"So what, you're in love with me?" she forced out. She was trying desperately to keep the excitement building in her chest from swelling any further. It was dangerous to be hopeful in this place.

Bridget wanted to tell her everything at that very moment; how her days were constantly flooded with thoughts of Franky, how every little cheeky flirt made her heart race, how she would get overcome with sadness at the thought of Franky suffering silently in her cell. _There are so many things I want to tell you..._ But she opted for the most basic of truths instead. It was the only sensible thing she could force to her lips.

"No..." She trailed off as she got caught in the piercing blue eyes staring into her own gaze. She watched as Franky's features melted into an expression of intrigue. A familiar glimmer burst into her eyes.

"So you just wanna fuck me." It was a statement that needed no clarification. Bridget felt her breath catch in her throat as Franky slowly stepped toward her. The inmate soon slid herself into the narrow space between the therapist and the table that had just separated them. Bridget couldn't even help herself, letting her eyes wander along the entire length of the younger woman's lean body.

"It's not that simple." Her words came out apprehensively. Franky drew in a deep breath, pausing before letting it go. She skipped the smart-ass response that threatened to slip from her tongue and got serious.

"What is it then?" Bridget studied Franky's face. The vulnerability she had begun to get familiar with was slowly creeping back into the brunette's features, giving the psychologist a flare of hope that her words were actually sinking in.

"That isn't easy for me to explain." _Except it is. But those words are so big..._ Franky bit her bottom lip and pinned her with intense eyes. Bridget's legs nearly buckled; it always fucked her up when Franky looked at her like that.

"What makes it difficult to explain?" Each one of the inmate's questions was breaking Bridget's resolve even further. She tried frantically to say something sensible but it was no use. She shifted on her heels, trying to regain some sense of composure. It was a feeble effort at best.

"I... I can't..." Through the haziness of her own mind, Bridget could swear that the space between them was shrinking.

"You can't what?" The psychologist swallowed her own frustration. _Why is this so fucking hard?_ She locked eyes with Franky and felt her knees immediately go weak. She let her gaze fall along Franky's body and eventually to the floor. Trying to slow her heartbeat was a battle she couldn't win.

Then suddenly, her world exploded when she felt fingers delicately come to rest on her chin, forcing her eyes back up to the vivid, watery expression just inches in front of her. Franky looked so hopeful and so scared all at once.

"Gidget?" the brunette whimpered.

 _Fuck_.

Her willpower evaporated. Hands that had been gripped along her own jacket sleeves quickly found themselves sliding up Franky's shoulders. She couldn't keep fighting what she felt anymore. She needed Franky to know that she was wanted - that she was _craved,_ in mind and body and everything in between.

"I need you," Bridget whispered. Her hands carefully bunched up along the hood of the younger woman's sweater and subtly tugged forward. "I need all of you..."

 _Oh god, I love you..._

Everything around them faded from consciousness are their lips came together, delicately at first. After a moment Franky took Bridget's face in her hands, deepening the kiss and pulling them closer together. The heat between them was growing rapidly. The inmate could feel Bridget fiddling with the straps of her apron, attempting to get rid of it. Franky tossed it, and her chef's bandana, haphazardly to the side and wrapped her arms tightly around the older woman's waist.

"Bridget," the brunette moaned softly against hungry lips. The sound of it alone was enough to set the psychologist's nerves on fire. She couldn't take it anymore. The desire was too much.

"Right here," she breathed.

"What?" Franky pulled back just enough to see Bridget's face.

"I need you, right here, right now," the blonde begged. She slid out of her own jacket and watched sparked ignite in Franky's eyes. "I can't lie to myself anymore."

 _You have no idea how badly I need you..._

Bridget gasped as she was suddenly spun around and lifted onto the countertop Franky had previously been pinned against. She was given no time to think as their lips came crashing together again. It was her turn to moan this time, wrapping her legs tightly around Franky's waist and kissing her like she'd die if she stopped. She felt fingers fiddle with the edges of her shirt, shaking a little harder as strong yet gentle hands slid along her hips to her lower back.

Her whole body arched as Franky trailed kisses along her neck and down her chest. She leaned further back on one hand and rested the other on the back of the inmate's neck, unable to help the way her hips twisted into the younger woman. Her breathing got heavier the further Franky traveled down her body. She was impossibly aroused and she knew it was obvious. Breaths became moans, and moans became begs once Franky had opened the closure of her dress pants, taunting her waist with soft bites and tender kisses.

 _"Fuck,_ Franky..." Her voice trailed off as the inmate carefully slid the pants from her legs. The cold shock of the steel countertop did nothing to dampen the fire that her entire body was bathed in. Fierce blue eyes looked up at her momentarily, and then all Bridget knew was the feeling of Franky's mouth on her body. She couldn't help the sounds that fell from her lips as the inmate between her thighs went to work on making her fall apart completely. Franky's tongue moved as if she already knew and mastered Bridget's every want and need long ago, sending the blonde teetering toward the edge much faster than she'd anticipated. She tried desperately to prolong the inevitable, to keep from letting impending climax take over just yet.

But then all that was lost when Franky slipped her fingers inside her carefully, deeply, her mouth never coming to rest, and the brunette fucked her with a delicate fierceness unlike anything she had ever experienced before.

When Bridget came, it was hard - her vision blurred, her eyes damp with tears of love and satisfaction and pure _relief_. Her hips surged off the countertop, twisting and convulsing beyond her control. She rode her high as long as she was able - and _fuck,_ it seemed to last forever. Eventually she started to come down, only then realizing how tightly she'd come to grip Franky's hair. She tugged the brunette back up to her lips, kissing her as deeply as she knew how. She soon pulled back, resting her forehead against the younger woman's. Her heart was threatening to burst in her throat.

"Franky, I love you," she confessed. "I love you so much..." Her eyes fluttered shut as she traced her fingertips down the brunette's cheek.

"I can live with that." _Oh, thank god._

 _Wait..._

Something didn't sound right.

 _"I can live with that."_

Bridget suddenly felt like she was hit by a bag of bricks.

The sound of Franky's voice snapped her viciously back down to the ground. She blinked rapidly as she tried to regain some sense of herself. She was on her feet, fully dressed, standing just inches in front of Franky. Her heart plummeted when she came to the realization that the last several moments of her reality weren't, in fact, real - every inch of her was still coated in static from the reverie she couldn't seem to shake. The disappointment surging through her, at the realization that she hadn't finally given into everything she wanted, was nearly unbearable.

 _Fuck_...

Bridget studied Franky's face rapidly, dangerously close to throwing caution to the wind and _re_ living her fantasy. But the resolve she felt to do right by this woman began to swell inside her. She was more determined than ever to help Franky make it through to her release date. The life Bridget imaged them having far beyond the prison walls was well worth the wait, no matter how painful it may be between now and then. She shifted on her feet again, the cocktail of emotions raging inside her threatening to break her apart. She needed to do the right thing.

"I can't." She saw bright eyes crawl over her face, challenging her silently. Bridget bit the inside of her lip before forcing herself to turn on a heel and slowly walk away.

"What are you afraid of?" Franky soon called behind her. Bridget's stride nearly came to a stop but she made herself keep moving forward.

 _I'm afraid I won't be able to keep control of myself and ruin your chances of parole... ruin our chances of a life together... I wish I could tell you that I love you, that I need you..._

But she couldn't.

At least not yet.


End file.
